


Rosemary and Lavender

by AshesTheTerrible



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood, Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Soft kissing, new relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 22:09:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17030904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesTheTerrible/pseuds/AshesTheTerrible
Summary: The Captain of the Atlas can't be strong all the time. Sometimes the memories of the Galra arena still come back to haunt him.But Curtis is always there, even in the dead of night, to fight the horrid terrors away.





	Rosemary and Lavender

**Author's Note:**

> Season 8 has got me feeling a lot of things, some of those things are a whole bunch of love for Curtis. I had to get some of it out.

His feet beat the ground harshly, soles of his shoes colliding with hard packed dirt over and over again. His throat burned with the constant inhale of the bone-dry atmosphere, his lungs ached. It seared his eyes and his nostrils and it invaded every pore. It crawled in wherever it could, finding all his weaknesses and using them against him. It was everywhere, he couldn’t escape it.

Towers rose from the arena like a great forest.

There hadn’t been this many of them to begin with…had there? They seemed to be multiplying; he weaved in and out of them, their shadows cutting lines across the land stretched out before him. Just when he thought he was about to break through the thicket of them, there was more, denser, closer, closing in. They were trapping him here.

He’d won the match, the vibrant red stains that clung to his hand and the front of his shirt told him so. The blood left behind never lied. He’d been victorious, and this earned him his freedom. They’d told him so. If you win, you may leave. But the towers, the towers weren’t allowing him. They just kept coming, more and more and more of them.

He no longer knew which direction he’d come from, or where he was going.

His eyes strained against the gloom that settled down over him. He wasn’t in the arena anymore. That he was suddenly so aware of. He didn’t know where he was.

He tried to change direction but his foot faltered and sent him crashing to the ground. His shoulder collided first, taking the full impact of the fall, pain striking through him like fire. He cried out, the sound rattling up from his aching chest like coins thrown into a tin can. It didn’t sound like his voice.

He screamed out again, the sound was disgusting, animalistic.

It wasn’t his voice.

This was the sound an animal makes when it is wounded. This was the cry of a dying creature, injured and bleeding out onto the soil.  He rolled onto the plain of his back, eyes staring up at a black, starless sky. It seemed to go on forever, empty and lonely. He longed for the cool light of the moon to flood down on his face, maybe even the warmth of the sunshine. But he was given nothing. His hopes and wishing were just that-unrealistic wants.

His fingers grabbed at the front of his shirt. It was soaked through with the sticky, red fluid. He’d killed his opponent. There was no other choice in the matter. It was kill or be killed. That was it. There was no other option. He didn’t know the creature’s name, or their story. They could have been forced into the arena much the same as he’d been. But now it didn’t matter. He wasn’t ready to die and so he’d taken a life, another life, one more that his hands were responsible for. He used to count, but he couldn’t stomach to now.

He wanted to be home.

He missed home. He missed being able to sleep and to think about things other than survival. He missed food that didn’t leave him feeling sick to his stomach.

There was movement off to the left of him. It was slow and he barely registered it at first. The shadows gave birth to something large, its head towering skyward. Its shapeless ebony form sashayed forth from the darkness, hunched over, dragging clawed hands against the ground.

“Why don’t you just let go Takashi?” It asked.

Its voice was like nails down a chalkboard. It was high and painful and horrible.

“Because I can’t,” He choked.

He was sobbing then, on the dirt, broken and pathetic.

“But you can. There is nothing holding you back,” It argued softly, coming to Shiro’s side and sitting down on its haunches neatly.

Shiro pressed his palms to his eyes, body wracked with sobs, shaking and sputtering.

“No, no I have to get home. I have to warn them, I have to get home,”

The creature cocked its massive head, taking on something canine in nature Shiro could just make out the glimmer of its fangs in the dark.

“There is nobody waiting for you there. You do not matter, nobody misses you. Warning them of the Galra is futile, they won’t believe you. It is a silly journey.”

“I have to try,” Shiro yelled.

“And you will fail.”

“You always fail; you have hurt so many because you are selfish Takashi, so very selfish.”

The beast clicked its’ tongue in a scolding fashion and suddenly Shiro felt like a very small boy; a child barely able to comprehend the world and everything in it. He felt so tiny next to the looming creature.

“It’s better if you were just…gone,” The creature whispered as it outreached a clawed hand toward Shiro’s crumpled form.

Shiro reared off of his mattress, his eyes snapping wide. For a moment he couldn’t comprehend where he was, everything was dark around him as his pupils adjusted. His heart was pounding against his ribs his breathing erratic and shaky; he searched for the beast, expecting it to come forth at any moment. His ears still buzzed with the sound of its’ voice, lingering there like a foul aftertaste. Shiro hands scrambled to the front of his sleep shirt, expecting to find the slick sensation of spilt blood, but instead there was nothing.

He was in his quarters, in his bedroom. He was safe. It had all been a dream.

The big man curled his knees up to his chin the hot tears that had bubbled up within the world of his dreamscape now traveling to his reality. His stomach clenched as the warm tears cut trails down his cheekbones. His room suddenly felt so very empty. He was so alone, and he was scared.

He was the Captain of the Atlas, ever composed and unshakeable on the surface. But he couldn’t hold it all together every second of the day. It had been weeks since he’d had a nightmare like this, he thought maybe for once they would leave him be, but that was just naïve. The horrid night-terrors always came back home. They always found their way back to him.

Shiro grit his teeth together, trying to cut the cries back but they only came on with more strength.

His eyes flicked to his nightstand, and to the small comm device there. He tried to talk himself out of picking it up; he tried to convince himself he was fine. But he wasn’t, nothing was fine and he was afraid. He just needed someone, he needed comfort and he needed touch. He needed something to ground him, to convince him none of the dream was real.

He reached his fleshed hand outward, clumsily grabbing the rectangular piece of technology.

He pressed the first contact on the list and held the speaker to his lips, trying to control his hiccupping sobs long enough to speak. The first and second ring came and went, he was starting to regret the call, he shouldn’t be bothering others this late at night.

But then halfway through the third ring the line crackled and picked up.

“Yes Captain?” The familiar voice on the other side croaked.

Shiro had obviously awoken the other man from a dead sleep. He cringed at the title. He was no captain right now; he was just a shaken, terrified young man.

“Curtis, I-I really need you…” Shiro managed to stammer weakly.

Instantaneously the tone on the other end of the conversation shifted.

“Takashi, are you ok? What happened? I’ll be there in two minutes,” Curtis’s voice was suddenly full of concern.

“A nightmare…” Shiro managed to explain but his voice cracked and died on his tongue.

“I’m coming right now.”

The comm went dead and Shiro allowed it to clatter down onto the small table, his fingers shaking.

Shiro shivered, squeezing his eyes shut as he drew in a raspy breath. The minutes felt like eons, he couldn’t breathe, the room felt like it was becoming smaller. Panic was rising like bile in his throat…and then suddenly there was the sound of the door to his quarters coming open. He’d given Curtis the key-code months ago, just in case…things like this came about.

The light from the hallway cut across the spacious single room in a large rectangular shape, falling over Shiro’s curled form. Haloed in the soft lighting was the outline of his subordinate. Shiro’s eyes met with the other man’s as the door closed behind him with a soft hiss and Curtis was immediately coming across the room as quick as he could. He was tall, taller than Shiro even and by no means was he small framed.

Curtis invited himself onto the bed, the queen sized mattress suddenly feeling so small with both of them occupying it. Curtis’s fingers swept through Shiro’s snowy bangs as he sat cross-legged on the bedding and pulled Shiro into his arms, cradling him carefully. Shiro let him do it, uncurling to press himself into the space of Curtis’s lap. He buried his face in the slope of the other man’s neck, instantly gathering the hints of lavender and rosemary, scents that signified some kind of safety. Curtis was safety. Everything about him was a safe place, the way he smelled, the way he touched, the sound of his voice. Shiro tangled his fingers in the back of Curtis’s sleep shirt, the sobs still shuddering down his spine but that was ok now, he knew everything was going to be ok.

“Oh Takashi, it’s ok. It’s ok. I’m here,” Curtis hushed, pressing his nose to Shiro’s forehead.

He left a small kiss there, then another to Shiro’s temple.

“I was back in the Galra arena…I wanted to go home so badly…there was this _thing_ there…it told me everything would be better if I was just…gone,” Shiro whispered, finally finding his voice.

Curtis pressed his lips to the shell of Shiro’s ear, hands soothing the other man’s back in slow, gentle circles.

“That’s not true. If you were gone, Voltron would have never been formed, the war wouldn’t be over, and I would miss you so much,” Curtis said softly.

“It was just a dream, it’s not real and you are important. The world is better because _you are here._ You are so many people’s hero. You are _my_ hero,” Curtis continued.

Shiro tightened his grip on his bed company, sighing out heavily as he began to relax in the comforting hold. Curtis could feel the tension slipping from Shiro’s shoulders and smiled softly.

He rested his chin on the crown of Shiro’s head and hummed.

“Do you want me to sing the song?” Curtis whispered.

Shiro nodded and Curtis could feel him smile against his neck. Curtis’s voice was soft and low, drifting through Shiro’s senses like a breath of gentle wind.  Curtis had told Shiro it was something his mother used to sing to him when he was younger and afraid of the dark. It was soft and smooth and something that had become part of the comforting ritual only Curtis knew how to perform.

“ _All the monsters are quiet now, they didn’t mean the harm_

_It’s time to rest here, in this place that’s nice and warm_

_The sun has slipped away and all the birds have settled_

_Everything is alright, all the creatures safe and nestled.”_

Shiro let go of a long breath, moving to wipe the wetness from his cheeks as the tenseness of his muscles uncoiled.

_“The darkness is a friend, just as good as the sunshine_

_You are always safe here, as long as you are mine.”_

Shiro felt Curtis kiss his hair once more and he sighed.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” Shiro whispered.

Curtis allowed his fingers to play in the soft hairs at the nape of Shiro’s neck.

“Don’t ever be sorry, I’m always here when you need me,” Curtis said with a small chuckle.

“Thank you,” Shiro said softly.

The two of them were silent for a handful of moments.

“Do you want me to stay?” Curtis asked very hesitantly.

Their relationship was new and uncharted waters. They’d not announced anything to the rest of the crew and they were still very much stumbling with how the Captain dating a member of the Atlas team would be taken. Curtis had only ever stayed over a handful of times and though his heart wanted to remain curled in Shiro’s sheets…he didn’t want to overstay his welcome.

Shiro leaned back slightly and nodded, eyes still wet and red tinged.

“Please. I really need you,” He said.

Curtis smiled softly and reached out to brush Shiro’s cheek with the back of his fingers.

“Of course.”

Shiro slowly laid back down into the rumpled comforters, Curtis shifted behind him, pressing the length of himself to Shiro’s back. They fit together perfectly, like puzzle pieces made specifically for one another.

Curtis’s arms slunk around Shiro’s waist, pressing his lips to the back of Shiro’s neck tenderly. Shiro tucked his leg backward, tangling their limbs together fondly. Curtis’s small kisses traveled the side of Shiro’s neck until he came to the lobe of the Captain’s ear, capturing it gently between his teeth before letting loose. Shiro made a soft noise into his pillow and turned to look at his company with tender eyes. Curtis took the opportunity to press his mouth into Shiro’s their lips melding together in perfect harmony.

Shiro lost himself into the deep abyss of the kiss, allowing it to become more passionate and needy. The warmth of Curtis’s tongue slid against the seam of Shiro’s lips and Shiro granted him access without reserve. Shiro turned in his partner’s arms, never disconnecting from the kiss, pressing them closer together beneath the sheets. Heat spread through Shiro’s nerves like warm liquid.

Everything was suddenly so slow and so very right.

The nightmares were kept at bay, having tucked tail and slid beneath the furniture of the room.

The two broke apart, breathing a little more labored and eyes pleasantly slatted.

Shiro smiled then, big and genuine.

“You are perfect you know that?” Shiro said softly as he kissed Curtis’s jaw, his prosthetic arm sliding up the other man’s shirt to rest at the small of his back.

Curtis smiled.

“Try and get some sleep, and I’ll be right here if you need me,” He said with a soft expression.

“I’ll _always_ be here.”


End file.
